


The Introverted Protector

by FancyMeetingYouHere



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyMeetingYouHere/pseuds/FancyMeetingYouHere
Summary: Jackson loves parties and Mark only tags along to watch the younger. When the younger leaves, so does Mark. Only this time he overhears someone talking about Jackson and fists do fly.Mark’s protective. Jackson’s social and trusting. They’re both oblivious.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 15
Kudos: 151





	The Introverted Protector

Jackson’s laughter is loud and high, breaking through for a glorious moment before the general noise of the party swallows it up again. It’s enough to make Mark turn and spot the younger in the middle of the room, at least three people surrounding him and laughing with him. The party’s well underway, time approaching midnight, and Mark has taken to standing near the wall with a drink and a calm shake of the head on the odd occasion someone comes up to ask him to dance. He didn’t come here to get drunk and go crazy on the dancefloor, he came for one reason, and one reason only.

Jackson.

Mark uses his cup to hide his smile as he takes small and often sips of what appears to be fruit juice. (It was the only non-alcoholic drink he could find in the fridge of Jackson’s friend of a friend who is throwing what is quickly becoming a drunken house-party.) His eyes never stray too far from Jackson, Mark wanting to enjoy every smile that graces the younger’s face, which the environment ensures are plenty, without being obvious enough to be found out. The first time Jackson dragged him to a party in the dorms, Mark was awkward and pretty lost, never having been much of a social butterfly, but quickly stumbled on the hidden jackpot of occasions such as these.

Alcohol mixed with high spirits created the perfect environment for slipping out of the lime-light and getting a front row seat to the splendor that is Jackson Wang. It barely came as a surprise for Mark when he realized his fond feelings for his roommate went beyond platonic, and the invitations provide the perfect excuse to bask in the obvious joy Jackson finds in events such as these.

Mark hides another grin with a small sip, leaning on the wall with his other hand loosely in his pants pocket, the outward picture of cool and collected, while his insides grow warm on nothing but Jackson’s joyful face and frantic hand movements, the other clearly in the middle of some hilarious anecdote. The music switches from poppy to more bass, Mark bopping his head to the beat as he scans the room once more in an effort not to full on stare. There are about ten people dancing to the right, only three actually succeeding, but the view is still funny and many of their friends are laughing at the side-lines, shouting teasing hoots and hollers. The lone couch is occupied by five people, all chatting and laughing, drinks in hand. Mark thinks he recognizes Namjoon and Seokjin from last week, friends of Jackson’s the younger had introduced with much fanfare.

With a grimace Mark remembers how he’d been jealous of Jackson’s and Namjoon’s easy camaraderie, but judging how Seokjin is sitting on Namjoon’s lap, an arm slung around his neck and hand casually petting his hair, Mark feels a pang of guilt.

He can almost hear Jaebeom’s voice in his head.

“Protective much?” The younger smirks.

Mark sighs. Did he say head? He meant right next to him … again. He raises an eyebrow at his younger friend, noting the chilled beer in his hand and obscene amount of styling to his hair.

Ah, so Jinyoung must be here somewhere as well.

“I’m standing next to a wall,” he counters with an incredulous smile. “How exactly is that ‘protective’?”

Jaebeom shrugs, joining him. “Maybe because you hate parties but never fail to show up when Jackson’s here like some sort of personal bodyguard?”

Mark coughs to cover his sudden rosy cheeks, quickly taking a drink to avoid Jaebeom’s knowing eyes.

The other laughs. “Relax, hyung! I’m sure Jackson hasn’t noticed. He’s pretty blind when it comes to you.”

It drags Mark’s mood down unbeknown to the still smiling Jaebeom, Mark’s eyes finding Jackson again mid-laugh and his heart does a funny little hop.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself, “Jackson doesn’t see me.”

Which is honestly where all of Mark’s problems usually begin. He’s not a push-over or afraid to speak his mind, but standing in the spotlight like Jackson has never appealed to Mark. He’s content with being quiet, adding his two cents when needed but enjoying the company and joy of others above all else. It’s quite possibly the worst personality trait to have when trying to get the attention from someone who shines as brightly as Jackson Wang.

That and being a damn coward because it’s ridiculously difficult to gauge if Jackson has any interest in anyone with the way he befriends and subsequently gets close to whoever he meets within five minutes.

It’s a bloody disaster because of course the guy Mark falls for triggers his possessive and protective instincts at least five times a day without even knowing how much damage he’s doing to Mark’s blood pressure. He takes another sip of his drink, cup dangerously close to empty, and his eyes find Jackson again. Two more people have joined the circle and the brown haired male is only grinning wider.

Mark kinda hates how he can’t join them without inevitably making it awkward.

Jaebeom snorts next to him. “Please tell me I never got this bad with Jinyoung.”

Mark shoots him a glare and Jaebeom holds up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, sore spot, got it.” Then he takes a swig of his drink and smacks his lips loudly. “So hyung,” he continues far too cheerfully. “Are you ever going to do something else besides leering from the sidelines, because the stalker thing is getting old.”

“Shut it,” Mark retorts, downing the rest of his drink with an eye-roll.

“Seriously,” Jaebeom presses. “Jackson’s basically glued to your hip during the day and invites you to _every single party_ he hears about, and you still think he’s not interested?”

“Yes!” Mark throws him a look but wilts at the genuine expression on his friend’s face. He sighs. “Just look, Jaebeom-ah.” He points at Jackson with his empty cup, the boy standing in a circle of socializing that’s making him shine like a fucking diamond. Mark lets out a humorless laugh. “Why the hell would he want to be around me when he’s got dozens of people who actually _know_ how to be-” he makes a few jerks with his hand in the group’s general direction, then drops it to dangle at his side instead. “How to be like _that_ ,” he finishes sourly.

When he looks at Jaebeom the other is giving him a strangely serious stare. The song switches again, the beginnings of ‘Bang Bang Bang’ making the dancefloor double in size in a matter of seconds. Jeabeom eventually drops his gaze, taking a long gulp from his bottle.

Mark turns away to scan the crowd again. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters.

“Some words of wisdom!” Jaebeom shouts, mouth suddenly right next to Mark’s ear. The older jerks in surprise only to have Jaebeom’s nose almost touching his, the other’s eyes demanding and clear despite the waft of beer-breath. He smirks. “Jackson isn’t the only one being blind here!”

With that Jaebeom pushes back, waggles his eyebrows, and steps into the crowd. Mark follows him with his eyes, still confused, and having the sudden feeling Jaebeom knows something he doesn’t, when he spots Jinyoung in the middle of the dancing bodies. Jaebeom is glued to the younger between blinks, causing a very ugly stab of jealousy which Mark quickly squashes.

He shakes his head and pushes off from the wall. He should probably get a re-fill.

A sudden hand around his arm has him looking back, Jackson appearing out of nowhere. “Hey! I think I’m gonna go.” The younger shouts over the music, releasing Mark instantly and leaving a strange tingling down his arm.

The words make him frown though. “Go? It’s barely midnight?”

Jackson runs his hand through his hair and laughs, though his expression holds a strange tension. It lights a familiar burning in Mark’s chest, mind already running because what if something happened in the minute he spent talking to Jaebeom.

“Jackson, are you okay!” He needs to yell to be heard over the loud music, nearly everyone dancing in some form at this point. They get jostled and Jackson’s arm shoots out, righting Mark seemingly without thought, and then Jackson is fake-smiling again. The younger is completely oblivious just how fast Mark’s heart is racing from the simple action of keeping him from falling.

It’s so fucking _not fair_.

Jackson nods. “I’m fine, just tired. I have early practice, so I’m gonna turn in. You stay and have fun, hyung. Catch you later!”

He’s gone with a pat to Mark’s shoulder, leaving the older with questions hanging on the tip of his tongue and a hollow feeling in his stomach. It seems moot to tell Jackson that Mark’s only here for him, but he turns around to try and do it anyways, only to watch Jackson slip out of the room and into the hallway, obviously in a hurry to leave.

_And definitely not wanting me around,_ Mark thinks bitterly. The dancing gets heavier, two separate elbows catching him in the back as he fights his way to the other side of the room to throw away his cup and follow Jackson out. He’ll probably walk around campus for a bit, stall for time, before also returning to their dorm. It’s when he finally makes it to the edges of the crazy dancers, the wall once more his best friend, that he’s able to overhear the group Jackson was with.

He doesn’t mean to listen, is only aiming for the trashcan located just to their side, but his ears pick up the name ‘Jackson’ and everything just runs on autopilot.

“-Jackson would never shut up!”

“Yeah, the guy needs a fucking mute button!”

Laughter follows and Mark turns, staring in stone-cold shock as the two newcomers from before slap each other on the back and everyone laughs somewhat uneasy, yet no one tells them off. In fact, a girl who’d been hanging off Jackson’s arm just a minute prior pipes up eagerly.

“Oh my gosh, yes. I swear, I’m glad you guys showed up. Jackson’s fun for like, two seconds, but then he becomes this leech! He just doesn’t _leave!”_

Mark feels the fire burn, itching his fists and blurring rational thought. He knows he needs to leave, should probably start running now so he’ll end up punching a tree instead of wailing on some unsuspecting douchebags.

Mark knows. He just doesn’t _care._

Especially when guy number two nods enthusiastically and screams unnecessarily loud. “Who thinks Jackson would whore himself for attention!”

All of their arms rise.

Mark’s does too, it just so happens to be aimed at guy number two’s face. With a yell and lava running under his skin, his fist sinks into the guy’s cheek, satisfaction almost intoxicating when he goes down screaming. Blood is on his face, hands cradling his nose and nonsensical yells coming out.

A hand yanks Marks arm. He’s a second too late to duck and the fist hits him hard on the jaw. Pain spikes under his ear, vision whirling, but he only stumbles a step before the vertigo fades and he turns murderous eyes on guy number one. The idiot is sporting a smug smirk, shaking his hand loose. He obviously thinks he’s won.

Mark grins, making sure to add some teeth which he can taste the blood on, probably from a split lip. Guy number one falters, a moment of hesitation in his step, and that’s all Mark needs. With a single fluid movement he kicks him straight in the chest, not adding pressure to break ribs, but enough to land the guy on his ass and make him stay there, wheezing.

The music cuts off. Everyone is staring, Mark knows, but for once he doesn’t feel the normal unease. All he is is pissed.

Guy number two decides to add to his anger by wailing from the floor, hands still holding his bleeding nose. “What the fuck’s your problem, you psycho!”

“You’re my problem!” Mark shouts, using his voice to the fullest. He knows he can get loud, adding a half-growl to that last word just for effect. It works, both morons staying bless-fully silent as Mark glares at them. He takes a single step closer and grinds out. “You ever say shit about Jackson again, and I’ll break more than your nose.” He wipes at the blood leaking from his lip, throwing a cold look at the rest of the group off to the side. “All of you.”

Then he stalks out, rounding the doorway to the hall with precise steps and trembling fists. He still wants to hit something, still feels freezing cold fury spike through him at the memory of what they said, but a voice stops him just before he can leave.

“Mark-hyung!”

It’s Jaebeom and Mark turns to look at him, seeing shock and awe on his friend’s face. “What the hell did they say about Jackson?” he says breathlessly.

Mark turns back to the door and yanks it open. “Nothing that bears repeating,” he mutters.

He’s full on sprinting by the time he gets down the two flights of stairs and outside, the air cool and grounding as it burns in his lungs. the dorm buildings are four monstrosities set up in a circle, a grassy patch lined with trees the size of a football field in the middle. Mark goes left, away from the trees and towards the outer sides of the buildings. There’s a gap wide enough for maintenance cars between the buildings and the fence marking off the university grounds, and Mark often runs laps around the grounds when he’s got anger and frustration coursing through his veins. It’s not the same as flipping through the air or punching, but it’s the best he can do right now.

After one round of full sprinting, he comes to a stop behind his own building. The night is cold and crisp, his breaths materializing in front of him as he leans on his knees and pants.

“Fuck,” he gasps, then opens his mouth and screams for three long seconds. At the end, the snake roiling in his chest settles some, heart beating easier and the furious haze drawing away from his thoughts. It takes another few minutes of pacing and balling his fists (his right one only twinges minimally) before he’s calm enough to do something about the stinging of his cheek. He knows nothing’s broken or damaged, probably just an impressive bruise and a split lip, but a cold-pack will help with his jaw not swelling until he can barely speak.

Been there, done that.

Sneaking into his own building should not be as easy as it is, but Mark’s done it enough times to know the lock on the back door is horrid enough that some simple, forceful jiggling does the trick. It leads to the front hall through a series of turns, and then Mark is trudging up the stairs, trusting the elevator in this building about as much as he trusts BamBam to not dab when asked. His phone buzzing in his pocket surprises him and he takes it out, rolling his eyes at the message Jaebeom just sent him.

**Where are you?**

He types out a quick reply.

**Out**

Not waiting on the inevitable ‘where, when, why’, Mark takes the rest of the stairs two at a time, slipping onto his floor and bee-lining for his room. He’s only a few steps away when the door opens and _shit, Jackson._

The younger is still shrugging on his jacket, phone pressed to his ear and voice agitated. “What the hell is ‘out’ supposed to mea-”

They lock eyes and Mark groans inwardly as he realizes the chain of events here.

Jinyoung called Jackson which made Jackson worry which made _Jinyoung_ worry which made Jaebeom jump into helpful boyfriend mode, which means Jinyoung just texted Mark with Jaebeom’s phone and has been relaying everything to Jackson. Sometimes, Mark thinks, having your best friend’s boyfriend being the same person as your crush’s best friend is just plain unlucky.

“He’s here,” Jackson rushes, “I’ll call you back.” He’s already stuffing his phone in his pocket before Mark can get a word out and Jackson is full on worrying it seems.

“Hyung, what the hell?” He rushes Mark, eyes falling on his chin and he winces.

Mark swats his hand away. “It’s fine,” he stresses. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Jackson counters heatedly, hand determined as he brushes it carefully over Mark’s cheek. 

With difficulty Mark suppresses the full-body shiver that follows the brief contact, mouth running dry as Jackson’s worried face is suddenly close enough Mark can count his eyelashes.

“It doesn’t look busted,” Jackson hums as he analyzes Mark’s skin up-close with a critical gaze. Then his eyes shoot up, looking at Mark unguarded and apparently searching for something on his face. It calls a rush of heat to Mark’s cheeks, the proximity suddenly a little more than a friend checking on a friend.

Jackson blinks, a small smile coming to his lips. They’re still close enough that Mark can feel Jackson’s breath ghosting over his left ear, but he’s enjoying the heat in his stomach a little too much to pull away.  
“Hey, Mark-hyung,” Jackson’s voice does that utterly mesmerizing thing where it drops and goes gravelly and Mark hums, wondering where the hell this brazenness is coming from but thoroughly enjoying it just the same.

“Jinyoung said you punched Taesung and Yeon-U because they were talking shit about me?” Jackson licks his lips at the end, just a small flicker of his tongue, but Mark is entranced. He hopes he isn’t reading all of these signals wrong, and decides _fuck it_. He smirks and plays along.

“Technically,” he leans a tiny bit closer, voice also low, “I kicked Taesung in the chest, but the rest adds up.” He huffs softly. “They were jerks, they had it coming.” He finds Jackson’s eyes and holds them, almost getting lost in the slight surprise and awe on his face. It gives him the courage to bring his hand up and softly tangle it in Jackson’s hair, thumb stroking just behind Jackson’s ear.

Taking the plunge is a lot harder than Mark thought, but Jackson’s shiver when his hand touched his skin gives him hope, makes him open his mouth despite the pounding in his chest. “You also had this coming.”

Jackson blinks, a confused ‘what’ coming out, but Mark’s already moving. He goes slow, gives Jackson time to move or stop him. He doesn’t. And then they’re kissing.

It’s nothing spectacular or groundbreaking, no heavy breathing or tongue-battles, but that wasn’t the point. Mark simply needs to make Jackson understand that it’s him, has always been him, and words aren’t really his strong suit. Jackson’s lips are soft and warm, the taste of mint a clear clue he just brushed his teeth. Without moving much, or doing anything really, Mark slowly pulls back.

Jackson’s eyes are closed, but when he opens them a smile spreads across his face. His hands come up to hold Mark’s waist. “Am I supposed to be wooed now?” he says cheekily and Mark can’t help the laugh that bursts out, tangling his hand further into Jackson’s hair at the giddy bubble that fills his chest.

“I did just punch a guy for you,” he teases.

Jackson looks serious again, smile falling as he eyes Mark’s chin. “And got hit,” he adds. “You need to have that looked at.” He steps back, one hand staying on Mark’s waist to tug him along, but Mark stops him. He’s getting a little tired of all this careful handling and grabs Jackson’s shoulders, spinning him until he’s facing Mark, then pushing him back against the door, efficiently boxing him in. The other ‘oofs’, eyes wide and focused solely on Mark. It’d be a lie to say Mark isn’t loving this undivided attention. He smirks. “It was barely a tap, Jacks, the guy can’t punch for shit.” He presses a little closer and almost gasps when Jackson’s hands go from hanging limp to sneaking under the hem of Mark’s sweater, fingers causing shivers as they trail delicately along the small of Mark’s back. Mark answers by curling his right hand back into Jackson’s hair.

Jackson still looks worried, but the beginning of a smile is trembling on his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mark.”

The dropping of the honorific is somehow incredibly _hot,_ and Mark responds to the heat pooling in his gut by leaning close enough their breaths mingle. “People always underestimate me, Jackson,” he whispers. “Don’t tell me you’re going to do the same.”

Jackson swallows, eyes once again locked on Mark’s and hands moving a little further up Mark’s back. Then he smirks as well, voice sultry and absolutely gorgeous. “And how can I prove to you I’ll never do that.”

“Kiss me, again.” Mark demands.

Jackson does.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you did/didn't like! I've fallen for Markson and have a few other things in the works, but this wrote itself and I hope someone might get some joy out of it. (Because protective Mark is plain awesome)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
